


Girls, girls, girls

by TroubledBird



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Character Study, Character deaths are canon compliant, Found Family, Mostly Canon Compliant, Relationship Study, SPOILERS up to around chapter 404, everyone from the household and school is mentioned, i don't even know why i am posting this, was stuck in my wip folder for too long i got annoyed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubledBird/pseuds/TroubledBird
Summary: A character study on Seira J. Loyard: Noble, Clan Leader, girl.(Incomplete)
Kudos: 12





	Girls, girls, girls

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. No one actually needed this to be published except me. It sat in my wips for so long I grew annoyed. I actually liked this a lot, but never got to finish it and I do not rememebr where I was going with it. It's basically a very long wip, a collection of snippets on Seira (some canon-compliant, others not, mostly tweaked).  
> I hope that, even though it has no linear narration, someone other than me might be able to enjoy it.  
> It has not, in fact, been beta tested at all. All mistakes are my responsibility.

The roses sway in the cold breeze, red petals like blood pearls she caresses while watering the soil. Thorns sometimes prickle at her skin through the clothes, but Seira has grown used to it and barely feels the sting now, pushing forward to make sure not a single dry spot gets left behind.  
Father taught her how to water the roses and tend to the garden. A Loyard Clan Leader has to nurture life to be worthy of taking it away; it has something to do with gentleness, too, because thorns only tear through flesh if you show them violence. Father used to say she was just like a rose, but when asked why? he merely answered you will see, my sweet daughter.  
When Clan Leader Gejutel Landegre steps through the gates of the Loyard Mansion, the roses stills and the breeze quiets to a whisper. What force is capable of silencing Nature so quickly?  
She’s not even close to being of age and Gejutel is saying that the Loyard Clan Leader was defeated by rogue Nobles and is no more. Her father ‒ beloved and kind father who strokes her head when she performs her duty perfectly, who braids and places flowers into her hair and always, always tells her how proud he is ‒ will join the Clan Leaders before him inside Death Scythe, now pulsing in her body like a second heartbeat.  
Seira allows herself a moment of anguish (she’s alone in the world, the last Loyard still standing) and grief (Father! Father! Why did you leave me, Father?) and concern (too young to be a Clan Leader, too weak to confront enemies because she still has no thorns to protect herself, and no one left to advise her). When Gejutel apologizes to be the harbinger of tragedy, she stands tall and accepts her new duty, trying not to think about all the souls swirling in her veins.  
Gejutel K. Landegre offers to be her guardian: tragedy has tied their families together because he has lost his son to the same rogue Nobles (kind Rousare who visited often and has a son, Regis K. Landegre, whose small hands tremble around roses’ stems and who has taught himself not to cry because crying isn’t elegant), and he’s lived longer than any other Noble. Even the Lord herself. He cannot replace the family she lost, but he can be a guide and Seira needs it desperately because she isn’t ready, isn’t prepared, and now she is a Clan Leader and it’s terrifying.  
Gejutel bows his head ever so slightly, one open hand over his heart, and takes her home.

Seira has heard incredible stories about Ragar Kertia, Clan Leader of the Kertia clan who has followed the Previous Lord into eternal sleep. Gejutel tells her stories of the fights they shared, of his silences, how enemies cowered in fear before a man they couldn’t see and how he slayed them to defend Lukedonia. Ragar Kertia was a legend among legends, and left behind two sons.  
She meets Rajak Kertia, beautiful and made of shadow, during audience with the Lord. He cherishes silence and trains heavily every day, dagger in hand and vanishing into thin air like an illusion. Rajak always reappears somewhere else and strikes, merciless, one swift hit to seize the enemy because death is never supposed to hurt for a long time.  
Rael Kertia is everything and nothing like his brother and asks for her hand on their first meeting. There is something almost wicked in the way he looks at her, in how his mouth shapes smiles ‒ sharp grins all teeth and no gentleness ‒ or the way he moves like he’s trying to fill the whole room.  
Seira declines. Rael sings poetry of her and shouts true love from the rooftops, brings her roses upon roses, his hands always bloodied. She knows it’s because he has shown them violence and the roses answered in the same language.  
She declines because Rael wants rooms to be filled with his presence alone at the expenses of others, like hedera spreading in a garden, and how do you stay by the side of someone who shouts his own name just to hear it echoed back?

Seira trains with all the Clan Leaders after Gejutel offers his advice on the matter. An acquaintance of his, whose name is never uttered but whose memory always causes Gejutel’s eyes to narrow in either irritation or nostalgia, taught him the importance of fighting different enemies to build up experience and a strategist mind. Diverse skill sets call for different approaches and Seira, being a Clan Leader, needs to be prepared for any eventuality.  
Rozaria Eleanor is the first one to approach her for a spar session. She’s beautiful and strong, and looks at Seira as if watching an equal. Seira likes it, likes her right away, and when they face each other on the training ground Rozaria gives her no room to breathe. When Blood Witch dissolves into red dust and Seira is panting hard, hands clutching Death Scythe like a lifeline, Rozaria offers observations about her technique and, funny thing, her clothes.  
Ludis Mergas looks far more approachable than the others; despite the softness of his figure, he has earned nothing but respect from the Central Order, the other Clan Leaders and the Lord herself. The unbreakable shield Izarok won’t go down, will never go down no matter how hard you attack, but Seira tries anyway and lands hit after hit. Ludis doesn’t falter, the shield doesn’t break, a part of her wants to shatter it to pieces just to prove she’s strong, that she can be Lukedonia's guardian just the same ‒ but the Shield of the Lord resists, and always will.  
Gejutel Landegre has Regis watch carefully during their training. Her respect for the man who has done so much for her and the friendship with her beloved father often gets in her way as they fight. Gejutel is a noble under any aspect, and his age could fool anyone into thinking he isn’t much of a fighter anymore. It’s so easy to see Gejutel Landegre as the man with a walking stick instead of a Clan Leader who has weathered millennia on his shoulders ‒ but he holds Regasus like it weighs nothing, an extension of his body, and the blows Seira receives could level mountains.  
Regis is awestruck by his grandfather’s grounding fighting skills, a hint of envy in his young red eyes when his gaze flickers to Regasus. Seira wonders if he realizes, at such a young age, how much being Gejutel’s grandson will put pressure on him.  
Karius Blerster is not a fighter. Karius Blerster is a refined performer, loud and dramatic and flamboyant, and Amore in his hands isn’t a weapon but a musical instrument playing a sweet melody. Arrows fly around Seira, forcing her to speed up and pay attention to the surroundings, batting away the ones still in the air with her Soul Weapon. Karius shouts swift dodge, Miss Seira! and what a blow, Miss Seira! and beautiful stance, Miss Seira! as arrows upon arrows hit the ground under her feet, and when Death Scythe pauses a breath away from his face, Karius beams at her. Then another one hits and she’s gracelessly pushed backward by the impact. Almost there, Miss Seira. Keep it up!  
Kei Ru teaches her meditation and mindfulness, how to reach out to the souls inside her Soul Weapon and establish a connection, how to balance its power with hers by emptying her mind. On the battlefield, the leader of Clan Ru unleashes his raw power and Seira doesn’t stand a chance against him, and yet she persists. Death Scythe doesn’t shatter ‒ it can’t, it’s incorporeal ‒ but Seira thinks it comes close, vibrating in her hands so hard that she struggles to hold tight. Kei Ru is already the strongest, and Garant only highlights the abyss that their power difference is.  
Seira obtains no success, but despite not being the winner she has lasted and stood her ground.  
Losing doesn’t feel like failure anymore.

***

Seira and Regis bond over tragedy. He’s so much younger than her and doesn’t cry once, eyes too big to properly convey anger and sadness. There is something in the way he cautiously refrains from mentioning his own father that would be unsettling if it wasn’t such an obvious attempt to appear strong.  
Which is why he’s taught himself to restrain the tears.  
(Regis will say it was because crying isn’t elegant, but Seira knows better.)  
They sleep in the same room, across Gejutel’s; on certain nights Regis will cross it and stop by her bed, tiny hands fisting around the fabric of the sheets and tugging until she wakes up. There will be unshed tears in his big childlike eyes. She’ll scoot over to let him climb inside, curling against her side and wrapping a thin arm around her middle. He will murmur Don’t cry as Seira isn’t crying; she will answer Okay, pulling the sheets up and acting like she doesn’t notice how Regis shivers in silence. If she were to touch his face, Seira would find it wet. She doesn’t. Instead, she allows Regis to play pretend and hold her hand under the covers.  
The two of them become inseparable in a heartbeat, siblings from different bloodlines united by death and loneliness, and Gejutel is relieved they’ve found solace in each other’s company. Seira tries to teach Regis how to grow roses, a little amused by his impatience when the flowers don’t bloom right away.  
She trains with Gejutel and Regis is always there, saying nothing but watching as if it kept him alive, enraptured by their movements. Regis asks her to train together, and the roles swap as she becomes the skilled fighter and he’s the inexperienced novice.  
The mental bond they share formed spontaneously, a telltale of how ‘family’ can mean so many things other than ‘related by blood’. It doesn’t make her less of a Loyard, and doesn’t make Regis less of a Landegre, no matter what other cruel Nobles say or how much they tease.  
They simply don’t understand, and Seira doesn’t expect them to. She hopes they never will.

Seira refuses once again Rael's proposal after a couple of years from her coming-of-age ceremony; he later assaults a young Noble and is sentenced to ten years of prison. She apologizes to Rajak even though it wasn’t her fault; Rajak says his brother has brought this upon himself by being foolish and selfish, and punishment will serve him good.  
He offers to train together and doesn’t hold back, and Seira is glad: her enemies won’t go easy on her just because she’s young. He attacks relentlessly with Kartas, disappearing and reappearing in her blind spot and striking down with surgical precision. She doesn’t land a single blow on him, Death Scythe heavy in her hands as it swings over her head, but it is not enough to make her desist.  
She asks for another round.

She’s been a Clan Leader for one century when the Lord summons her and Regis.  
They’re being sent to investigate an attack involving a mutant: in Seoul, South Korea, all the employees of a local hospital were brutally murdered and their blood either drained or splattered on walls like a horrifying painting.  
There are questions Seira feels bubble inside, but nods and accepts her duty in silence and the Lord dismisses them both.  
She spars one last time with Rajak. He tells her Rael has served his sentence and will be released in a few months, and she feels nothing for it. Seira feels nothing for Rael except pity, but doesn’t mention it to his brother. Death Scythe rotates over her head and she strikes a blow; she misses, but when Rajak leaves there’s a cut on his coat and he’s nodding approvingly.  
Gejutel bids her and Regis goodbye and tries hard to keep emotion out of his voice. Behind his monocle, Seira reads the I’m so proud of you two that’s always on his tongue and gifts him a smile before setting off to Korea.

***

Seira and Regis have been in Korea for barely two weeks and they’re fighting side-by-side with an enhanced human, their principal and one of their classmates against other enhanced humans for their other classmates’ lives.  
Regis can’t stand M-21, he declares, and yet takes a blow in his place to buy him time to regenerate. He will later deny to have changed his mind, but Seira knows him too well to be fooled, and he is way too transparent for his own good.  
They gain two more allies after the fight. Seira starts thinking of the mansion in Seoul as a Lost & Found office for unwanted and discarded existences, for those who lost or never had somewhere to go back (or someone who wanted them to).  
She wonders if it’s true that “like seeks like” and thinks about Frankenstein and Rai welcoming rejected children in their home.

She has friends. Human friends, bright and lively children who laugh while drinking soda and eating snacks, leaving crumbs Frankenstein will have to agonize over as he or someone else of the household cleans.  
Ik-Han wears thick glasses and talks non-stop about computers. He and Tao seem to share a private world no one’s allowed into, his eyes starry as they discuss hacking and hardware. He’s smart and likes Maths, always brings his books and buys Shinwoo soda when he’s late for school and can’t stop by the vending machine. Ik-Han brings pads in his bag all the time because his friends might unexpectedly need them and wants to be prepared (Suyi told her he literally saved her day once, as her period hit earlier than usual and she had an important audition one hour later).  
Yuna is a soft-spoken, dreamy girl. She likes many feminine things and Street Fighter, knows the lyrics of any song by EXO and wants nothing more than to visit the US. She used to do ballet -- it shows in the way her back is always straight -- but stopped during middle school because it was too stressful. Yuna wants to be a child counselor after high-school because there was this documentary once, one dealing with abandoned and abused children, and she cried so much over how no one really seems to care about their suffering and someone has to care, I think I’d be a good therapist; Seira knows nothing of therapy, but she knows Yuna, and if someone can be a good counselor it’s definitely her.  
Shinwoo is a fascinating character: not the most brilliant student, but an impressive athlete and a remarkable human being in general. He’s brave to a fault, almost stupidly so, but the fierceness of that desire to protect is blinding. He likes blockbuster movies and RPGs, buys everyone lunch every Thursday, and Martial Art Schools from around the whole world plead and beg to have him enroll in their courses. Shinwoo loves his friends more than anything in the world, worries about Rai as if he knew, somehow, that things aren’t as they seem. Seira hasn’t forgotten the way he stood up for his friends even against enhanced humans who threatened (and were more than capable) to kill them.  
Suyi is world-wide famous, has starred in TV shows together with pop stars and actors, and models for a prominent brand of clothing everyone at school talks about. It’s a tiring life that doesn’t leave her much free time, but Frankenstein (Principal Lee) and the teachers help her stay on track with lessons. Suyi is really good at Maths -- better than everyone in their group and on par with Ik-Han -- and English sounds so natural coming out of her mouth, practiced and with a faint accent that her fans find adorable.  
Ordinary people. Children completely unaware of the monsters lurking in the streets of their cities, the hunger for power of the Union, the sheer delight for destruction some people feel as they watch the world burn -- and the world burns.  
Just how it should be.

***

Solitude is the leitmotif leading both Frankenstein and Raizel’s lives, and Seira doesn’t need to know the whole story to come to this conclusion. She sees it, in Frankenstein’s case, as a small elephant-in-the-room situation: you could point out and ask about it, and receive a puzzled look and a firm denial in response. But it’s there, no matter how many layers of self-protection and constructed identity he’s placed it under. The solitude exists, a pulsing presence inside and all around him, and although he might be convinced to have it masterfully hidden, one does not need to look for too long to see it.  
It’s in the way he is off-put by the presence of so many people, mostly. Seira sees him sometimes startle when, too absorbed in his own thoughts, Frankenstein notices someone else in the room. Seira has noticed the way he often looks at the dinner table, counting the number of dishes under his breath again and again, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. She sees it in the way he is uncomfortable sharing personal thoughts and feelings with others ‒ even with sir Raizel ‒ and becomes defensive if asked to: a mechanism of self-preservation developed when you can trust no one but yourself.  
When everything you say can be held against you.  
In sir Raizel’s case, Seira sees it in how he is so used to silence. Nobles don’t normally talk much (Karius seems to be the exception that proves the rule), but Raizel’s silences feel practiced and a habit. As if he’d taught himself not to express anything out loud because there was never the need to. His face too, when they met for the first time, was blank and unemotional; why would you need to convey feelings when there’s no one to show them to?  
She sees it in how he’s learning to be more expressive, because Frankenstein just can’t be the only one who always understands what he needs; in the uncertainty of his actions and how hard it is to choose ‒ he never had to choose anything, there was always one single choice and he’s learned to settle.  
And Raizel holds on to every single thing shown to him, no matter how small or mundane. His obsession for ramen, the desire to keep playing video games and board games despite being more than terrible at it, the phone case Shinwoo gifted him and the small charm that blinks when you receive a message Yuna has won at an arcade. He holds on to all of that, treasures them like precious possessions, a lifeline he can’t let go.  
Seira hopes the loneliness in their eyes will soon start to fade.

M-21 tries to take as little space as possible no matter where they are. Keeping to himself is his way to escape the spotlight, to blend with the background and pass unnoticed; at school, he settles on pacing around the perimeter of the courtyard and minimum human interaction. He usually travels together with Takeo and Tao, sure, but barely contributes to conversation unless directly addressed.  
Things aren’t much different at home: when the children are visiting he either shies away or awkwardly stands to the side and watches in silence, squirming in place and fidgeting with his clothes; as for housework, he tries beating Tao on time and picks the ones that can be handled alone (like grocery shopping). He seems to find her the least draining person to be around. Not that they spend a long amount of time together, but M-21 appears to be somewhat more at ease than when he’s with Tao or Frankenstein.  
«It’s not that I don’t like company,» he confesses one day as they’re cleaning the bathroom, «but they can be… draining, and sometimes I need to recharge.»  
«Tao can be a challenging company.»  
«Yeah, no shit.» He scrubs the sink a little too hard and the sponge tears; cursing softly, as if afraid to be scolded, he kneels to take another one from the cleaning supplies box.  
«I mean, he’s a great guy. I admire his energy and passion, but man, he never shuts up. I wonder how Takeo could deal with him for so long, I’d have gone mad at this point. Sometimes I wonder if the Union placed a speaker in his throat. I swear, no normal human being talks as loud as he does, it has to be the enhancement.»  
Across the hallway, Takeo is chasing Tao away from their room with a mop and looks rather threatening; Tao wheezes, waving at them as he runs toward the safety of the living room.  
Despite his complaints, there’s a certain softness in M-21’s expression -- a display of vulnerability so rare that it feels like being shown a magical treasure -- as he mutters “Can’t believe I’m stuck with them,” and shakes his head.  
Almost as if he didn’t mind.

Rael stabs M-21 on the school grounds, in front of Takeo and Tao. He stabs M-21 because he is “a pathetically disgusting creature” and “unworthy to be alive”.  
Frankenstein has to intervene before Rael kills the three enhanced humans and Regis.  
He never, never learns.

Seira thinks of the roses in her garden, abandoned to wilt and rot, to disappear and become nourishment for new lives. She thinks of the stretch of fragrant red roses swaying under the windows of the Loyard mansion, the way she watched them grow and bloom and wilt whenever winter knocked on Lukedonia's door.  
She misses them quietly in the back of her mind, words of a song one remembers despite not having listened to it in a long time. They don't inhabit her dreams nor haunt her waking hours, but to see perished and colorless what once was flourishing and beautiful had been painful. So she pours her love into the plants at home, offers to take watering duty at school and spends hours caring for every flower growing in the pots and flowerbeds. They're not roses but bloom splendidly nonetheless, and they're not red but the sight of oranges and pinks and yellows is just as beautiful.  
She never mentions it though, because there are too many things to think about already, with the Union relentlessly endangering Seoul by sending men and monsters to fight; and yet, when she returns from school, there's a vase with a single red rose sitting on the desk in her bedroom.  
«Regis told us you used to have roses in Lukedonia,» Takeo smiles gently, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. Tao’s fingers are reddened but there’s no blood on them, while M-21 lingers behind the door frame as if worried to be a bother.  
«One isn’t the same as a whole garden, we know,» Tao explains bashfully, «but we hope‒»  
Her fingers clutch harder around the vase as she looks at them, one at a time, a smile pulling at her lips. It is not the same, no, but she has learned through time and hardships that loss can be a new start.  
It will grow beautifully on the private balcony of the living room.

Regis knocks on her door late at night. He used to do that a lot when he was younger, but it’s the first time it happened since they have been in Seoul.  
They sit on her bed in close proximity, Regis fidgeting with his pajama’s buttons and looking like he’s been trying to solve an expression unsuccessfully.  
He’s not the most talkative Noble in Lukedonia, but Regis has always been far from the quiet type; he’s pensive now, a look Seira has never seen on his face, and it makes her wonder what brought him there.  
«Han Shinwoo has a ‘crush’ on you. I was told it means he’d like to go on dates and kiss you.»  
«Okay.»  
«If he asks you to, what are you going to say?»  
She thinks about it. Shinwoo is a remarkable human being for his age, athletic and loyal to his friends. He’s not the brightest child when it comes to school, but possesses an uncanny perceptiveness that worries her and her householders greatly. Sir Raizel has wiped his memories of Nobles after the fight against the DA-5, and yet Shinwoo’s eyes cloud whenever Rai is ‘ill’ and cannot attend school.  
Seira finds him admirable and interesting; maybe in another universe, where she isn’t a 217 years-old Noble, they could even try dating. Not in this one.  
«I would politely decline.»  
Regis seems quite surprised by her answer, opening and closing his mouth as if to say something and then deciding not to. «I thought you liked him,» he mutters.  
Outside it rains, fat drops of water hitting the glass of her window and blurring the lights of the city.  
«Not the way he likes me.»

She trusts Frankenstein like one trusts family. Gejutel had warned her and Regis not to trust him because I never really liked him, and it’s a huge lie even though Gejutel’s eyes narrow in irritation every time his name is mentioned, because Frankenstein is many things but not untrustworthy.  
He wasn’t close to her father and says as much almost apologetically, like it’s a fault or a grave overlook on his part. Frankenstein had known her grandmother, a woman of subtle fierceness, but they hardly ever spoke to each other because she wasn’t delighted by his presence in Lukedonia (just like many other Clan Leaders), and crossed paths with her father on a few occasions, but nothing more than a brief nod of acknowledgment before going their own ways.  
«He would be proud of you,» he tells her before leaving for the laboratory. «I know I would.»  
He politely feigns not noticing the stray tear rolling down her cheek.

One rose becomes two, four, six, and then the private balcony of the kitchen overflows with red flowers everyone loves and admires. For the anniversary of her arrival in Seoul, the household gifts her a different rose seed Frankenstein bred for her. They called it Rosa abscissa, from the motto of the Loyard Clan “Abscissa virescit” -- “despite having been cut down, we still grow green”.  
They say it fits her. Her father would agree.

«I’m so jealous of you, Seira,» Suyi whispers to her as the boys fight over the last pocky. Yuna agrees, still whispering, and all Seira can do is inquire what has sparked that feeling.  
«You live in a house full of handsome guys! I’d pay real money to be in your position,» Suyi gasps low enough that no one notices, almost scandalized.  
«Seriously,» Yuna turns and sighs, shoulders weighing down, «how can you bear with it?»  
Handsome guys. Seira turns to the rest of the household, sweeping her gaze from one man to the other. They are all, indeed, physically remarkable.  
But just five hours before she’s seen Tao wear a dinosaur onesie and stomp around growling, calling himself “Taozilla” and falling face-down on the floor because he tripped on his own tail, M-21 laughing with tears in his eyes right behind him. She’s walked in on M-21 stabbing chips with his werewolf claws and eating them, and she’s seen him mimic Wolverine’s moves and stances while watching X-Men.  
Seira’s seen Takeo lay in bed for three days after his hair got stuck into the vacuum cleaner and they had to cut them, or panicking for the hole he’d shot in the wall while trying to kill a bug. She witnessed sir Raizel agonize over fruits he didn’t know how to peel and the fifteen types of ramyeon Frankenstein prepared for him because they all taste the same, but Frankenstein tries so hard. Yes, they were all beef-based, but the salt percentage was different for each cup.  
She’s seen Frankenstein chug a whole cap of bleach because Tao asked him if it had any effect on modified humans, and complain that lavender-scented tastes terrible compared to the unflavored one.  
Not to mention, the RK members are all far too young compared to her 217 years, while both the householders could never be anything more than parent figures for her.  
«Maybe it’s because I’m used to their presence.»

Seira doesn’t know slowing down or taking it easy. The role of Clan Leader fell on her shoulders too soon, and she was expected (by everyone, but especially by herself) to catch up as fast as possible. Seira considers her life as an avalanche that keeps speeding up. One day, it will be impossible to stop and might end up crushing her as well.

***

Zarga Siriana was the Clan Leader of the Siriana clan. Zarga Siriana is a Noble, a traitor, the 7th Elder of the Union and the murderer of her father.  
She doesn’t have to guess, nor she was ever told who did it; it was him, Zarga Siriana himself, who thoughtfully informed her of his deeds. He added some color to the narrative, like how her father pathetically pleaded for human lives to be spared before the chain of the Siriana Soul Weapon wrapped around his neck and choked him to death.  
Death Scythe seethes inside her and she lets its anger loose. Seira swipes her scythe and the top of a building falls stone after stone, Soul Weapon screaming in her hands.  
Frankenstein had told her, during one of their many spar sessions, that the upper hand in a fight goes to the one who isn’t fazed by taunting words (enemies will always look down on you because you’re a girl and because you’re young; don’t let them make you lose your head). Seira tries, had tried, but Zarga Siriana has opened a wound she’d thought closed and crawled inside like a maggot.  
Later on, the red dust that once was Zarga Siriana disappears with the wind. Her grief doesn’t.

Regis receives the Soul Weapon of the Landegre Clan one year before his coming-of-age ceremony and while Gejutel is still alive.  
It terrifies him. He quietly shakes on her bed as Seira pets his hair like she used to do when they were children, confessing to feel the power inside Regasus and not knowing if he’ll ever be able to control it.  
She understands Regis, the fear of having something so strong in your hands and not living up to previous wielders, feeling like you’ve won a prize you don’t deserve. Seira knows what it feels like to desire someone would snatch it from your hands.

Seira finds Rael on the balcony where she grows her roses, Grandia clutched in his hands and tear-stained face raised to the evening sky. It’s a lovely shade of deep blue, purplish clouds lazily resting over the city.  
She sits next to him in silence. Rael rubs his face with the sleeves of his shirt in an attempt to hide the tears. When he turns, his face is even redder and Rael still looks miserable.  
Rajak Kertia is dead. His brother, beloved older brother, died to buy Lukedonia more time against the traitors. He succeeded and they won, but it doesn’t make his death any easier to process.  
Rajak Kertia will never have tea with them again.  
“I wanted to be a Clan Leader,” Rael murmurs against his knees. “One that would be remembered, like my father...”  
Oh what a curse it is, children left behind by parents who made history,struggling to live up to the grandiosity of the ones they follow.  
He chokes on the next words, voice broken by soft, sad whimpers. “But not like this, Seira… Not like this.”  
Rael loved his brother so much, and Rajak loved him back just as fiercely.  
“I know.”  
He thinks it’s his fault. Rajak would have not lost if he surrendered Grandia to him, to make Kartas complete again. It’s his fault for wanting a Soul Weapon so bad he made his father split his one into two.  
“You did nothing wrong, Rael. Rajak lost because they did not play fair.” And they didn’t, ganging up on him while he followed the rules of fair combat, playing dirty and shredding him to pieces. She wonders if Rajak knew, expected them to not play by the rules, and still faced them alone so no one from Lukedonia had to leave their position.  
She wonders if he knew he was going to lose.  
“It’s not your fault,” she repeats looking straight at him. Rael sobs against the fabric of his clothes to muffle the sound and not attract the attention of the rest of the household on himself, chanting the same phrases over and over again, a litany of “Not like this”, “I’m sorry”, and “Come back”.  
But no matter how much he’ll scream and cry, Rajak will not come back. Silently, Seira welcomes him among those who found themselves with responsibilities they never asked for.

The Traitor Nobles are dead and she sits in front of Master Raizel in the room he confined himself within, and between heavy breaths he looks at her with his unwavering eyes.  
He is dying. He’s dying, has been since he was called Noblesse, but now it’s real and terrifying and there is nothing they can do.  
“Death cannot be tricked, avoided, or defeated,” he tells her, and his voice sounds so, so small in that big room. “It was always bound to happen.”  
Seira thinks of Frankenstein overworking himself for days inside his lab, screaming at his own powerlessness in the face of this undefeatable foe. He thinks of him unable to give up, even though he knows he won’t make it because Death cannot be tricked, avoided or defeated, and knows Master Raizel is thinking of him as well.  
“Are you afraid?”  
Blood drips from his mouth and on his clothes, staining his white shirt red.  
Raizel lies with a strained smile on his lips, knowing she sees right through him: “Fear is a foreign feeling to me.”  
Seira refills his cup and watches as it shatters to the ground. She wishes to rule over Death just once; then, she takes the shards of the teacup in her hand and bows.  
After all, some things can be mended.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this was meant to be a fanfiction in three acts. The first one was Seira, the second was Yuna, and the third was Suyi. Never even started writing the other two parts, but I liked this one a lot when I wrote it. Also, again, even the first part can't be considered complete. Regardless, I felt like posting this would at least make me less upset about "wasting" my time on a character study that never got to see the light of day. Maybe someone else will like it. Maybe not. After having distanced myself from the fandom due to the finale (and being caught up in other things), I did not expect to post again.  
> I just did.  
> I hope everyone is doing fine in these COVID times. Do not forget to wear your masks, wash your hands, and vote if your country has elections (no, I'm not from the US, but I'm looking at you).  
> Be careful out there.


End file.
